


The Space Between

by Ralkana



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Established Relationship, F/M, Missing Scene, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of chaos, they share a moment at rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infiniteeight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/gifts).



> **SPOILERS FOR CATWS. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE.**
> 
> For infiniteeight, who was sad about the lack of Nick/Natasha fic in the wake of the movie, which made me realize that I was too. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> **Timeline ~ A missing scene that takes place in the bunker after the plan to take down Insight has been finalized.**
> 
> Thanks to Dazzledfirestar for reading it through and boosting my confidence!

 

Exhausted, heartsick, and in pain, Natasha sat silently while Hill went to rest and Rogers and Wilson filed out to do whatever prep they needed to do.

"You should rest, Natasha," Nick said, and she swallowed harshly at the way he sounded, his voice tight with pain. There were only a handful of people -- less now, she thought on a rising wave of despair that she ruthlessly suppressed through long practice -- who would be able to hear the pain in it, the undertone of apology it held.

"If I didn't know how much we'll need you for what's coming next," she said evenly, "I would finish what they started."

She closed her eyes against the memory of him saying he didn't know who he could trust, feeling the words stab bone deep once more, but Nick read her mind, as he always seemed to do.

"It was never you I couldn't trust," he said quietly. "It was the man who stood beside you."

"He's a good man," she said flatly, "And he will do what needs to be done."

"I couldn't be sure of that. Now I can."

"So you'll stop faking the deaths of people I care about in order to bring him to heel or test his loyalty."

The harsh words hung in the air, and Nick sighed, a hitch in the middle of it.

"Phil's death wasn't faked, you know that."

She pushed down the memories of that horrible time. It didn't do anyone any good to dwell on them, especially when there was so much she needed to focus on.

"Does he know? What's going on here?"

Nick raised his uninjured hand and scrubbed it over his face, wincing when he hit the fresh stitches. "I have no idea -- the lines of communication were severed when I went off the grid."

He glanced up and caught her eye, and the grim weariness in his dark gaze tugged at the heartstrings she fought so hard to keep hidden. Phil's death and all that came after it weighed heavily on him, she knew, and always would.

"I'm not certain of much of anything anymore, Natochka," he said tiredly, and hearing him admit it was like a dagger in the gut, "But I know that Phil Coulson will fight Hydra to his death."

It was true, and she nodded. "As will we all."

They both fell silent, contemplating the likelihood that none of their greatly reduced circle of allies and friends might make it out of this mess.

"I warned Clint," she said, knowing he would hear the defiance in her tone that no one else would. "He, at least, deserves that much."

"I wouldn't have expected you not to," he said mildly, and then he caught her gaze, and shook his head. "There isn't a way to warn them all, and even if we could, we have _no idea_ who we can trust."

Natasha knew that, of course she knew that, but the idea of so many agents -- colleagues and friends -- left out in the cold, with no one to trust and nowhere to go...

Many of them were the enemy now, and the thought burned like acid, but many of those who would be left alone and exposed were good agents just trying to do their jobs, and they had no idea of the hell she and Nick and the others were about to rain down on them.

This might be the only way to cut out the rot, but they were going to lose so many good men and women along with the bad. It made her sick and angry, but there was no use saying so to Nick -- he already knew.

They were soldiers, both of them, battle-hardened, with death on their hands, and they both knew the horrors of civil war, had seen its cost spilled out in blood on the ground. She knew, better than anyone, how the things Nick did and asked others to do stole his restful nights away.

But Clint was hers, as much as Nick was, and he had already lost so much. It seemed unbearable that he would lose SHIELD too, his only home -- even if it was no longer a truly comfortable one for him -- and find himself surrounded by those who would punish him for actions he could not have helped, choices he was not given.

"The world is going to think he's a monster," she said, "When the truth of his actions is revealed. You and I both know that no one will look past what was done to see that he was not the one to do it."

"Then we'd better get through this, so we can make sure the world knows the truth. About him. About everything, because he's not the only one they'll be calling a monster. We'll have our own share of that. So we'd better rest while we can."

He heaved a sigh as he pushed himself carefully to his feet. She rose too, going to his side in case he needed help, for which he glared balefully at her. She ignored it, long used to such a reaction.

They silently made their way back to the bed she'd first seen him in, quiet as they arranged themselves in it, mindful of their various aches and injuries.

Natasha had lost count of the times they had shared a hospital bed, one or both of them battered or bloodied, but never alone, if they could help it. She'd thought, for a short while that had seemed eternal, that _alone_ would be her lot now, forever.

She'd never been one to dwell on her losses, but then she'd never had something so precious to lose before -- she'd never allowed something to coil up so tight and familiar within her like Nick had. This man, with his gruff words and his sly smiles, had slipped past her guard when she wasn't looking, and she would've sworn she was _always_ looking. But love, unexpected or otherwise, did not mean mawkish sentimentality, and while he might have his games to play, she would not be one of his pawns.

"I thought you were dead," she said bluntly, and his steady breathing stilled at her words. "I won't go through that again."

She knew, by the way he curled his hand around hers and lifted her fingers to his lips, that he understood it was the lie she objected to, not his eventual death, which was inevitable and not worth fighting about. The brush of his lips on her skin was the only apology she knew she'd receive, and far more than she'd expected.

"Rest, Natochka," he murmured sleepily, and she was helpless against the wave of fondness that broke over her.

She pressed a kiss to his temple, as she'd wanted to in that stark, ugly room when she'd thought him lost to her, blinking away the moisture in her eyes when his lips curved at the gesture. Settling carefully against him, she closed her eyes and welcomed the few moments of rest they still had to spend together.

**END**


End file.
